


The Birthday

by snowspy



Series: Idiots in Love [2]
Category: Kasabian
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowspy/pseuds/snowspy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serge's birthday, Tom's presents, tomerge fluff as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday

There was a bouncy castle and he might be jumping on it, or perhaps he was standing still. Across him was Noel, doing somersaults and backflips, his thick blue feathery coat waving behind him and making him looks like some sort of enormous acrobatic blue jay. On the periphery of his vision, something was making its way down. It was Tom freediving from the roof and onto the giant rubber, with his usual idiotic grin plastered to his face. Soon he joined Noel and both were shouting at him, yelling his name and telling him to bounce along. He refused, preferred to be sitting on the rubbery wall with his legs elegantly crossed and his arms tucked around his torso. Oh, so he was sitting then. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his consciousness rose and recognised that he was simply in a dream; a dream in which he was sitting by himself while everyone else around him was getting shitfaced and making fools of themselves, separate from his cool broody self. Not so different from real life then. In any case, the dream was getting more and more ridiculous, as the big ape was now snogging Gary Numan (outside the closet), and Julian/Howard was hanging upside down from the roof. He must remember to not fall asleep watching reruns of The Mighty Boosh next time. His consciousness stretched its satiny self across his mind and pushed him awake. He’s awake, he’s awake...but if he’s really awake, why does he still feel bouncing? And why can he still hear Tom’s cheerful calling of his name?

 “Serge! Serge, wake up! Serge!” Oh. The actual, real world Tom was actually there, bouncing on his bed, giddy as a boy on Christmas morning.

“Seeeerge, come on!” Serge’s bleary eyes slowly opened and the sight of his manchild of a mate came into focus. “Happy birthday morning!”

“’op um’ing yer’ gi’ing me a ‘ead’e’” Serge mumbled around his still-asleep tongue.

“What?”

“Stop jumping you’re giving me a fucking headache,” he said more loudly this time.

“Man you’re a cranky birthday boy, aren’t ya,” Tom talked back but he stopped bouncing anyway. He wasn’t offended though, Serge knew that Tom knew that Serge was cranky in the morning. Hell, he was cranky in general, never mind the position of the earth relative to the bloody sun. But Tom once said that he didn’t mind, he thought it only made Serge even more gorgeously precious in the relatively rare moments when he was actually smiling. The thought of that moment made Serge smile, which earned him a quick peck from the shorter man above him, who was looking so happy he lit up the entire bedroom much brighter than sunshine itself did.

 “Come on, man. Get up so we can open my presents.”

 “Don’t you mean _my_ presents? It’s my birthday.”

 “Yeah, yeah, alright _, your_ presents. Now come on!”

Serge chuckled as he pulled himself up. Tom loved birthdays, and not just his own. He approached other people’s birthdays with the same gleeful enthusiasm as he did his own. He’d be the one to arrange for cakes and songs, booze and parties, and most of the time he’d be the one to come up with the silliest gifts. And when it came to Serge’s, naturally all those things were multiplied by ten, and then multiplied more depending on the state of their relationship at the time. At the moment, there was a heap of presents in assorted shapes and sizes haphazardly wrapped in brightly-coloured papers on his bed.

“Bloody hell, Tom, did you rob Santa’s factory?” Serge stared at the festive collection of objects in front him. He thought he even saw one that looked suspiciously phallic, and decided that was _not_ something he would like to open first thing in the morning.

“I wish! If I could, I would, you know.”

“I believe that.” Serge picked one present at random, a light thin box wrapped in shiny red paper. He opened it, and pulled out what seemed to be a cat ears headband.

“Tom?”

“Yes, Serge?”

“What’s this?”

“Fox ears!” Tom chirped.

“Oh. Why?”

“To go with your tail, of course!”

“Why??” Serge looked incredulous at the beaming face of his friend.

“Well, you’ve already worn the tail, which looked perfect on your perfect arse, by the way. So I thought the ears would complete your whole sexy naked fox look.” If possible, Tom grinned even wider while Serge felt his cheeks burning red at that particular memory.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that again."

"Yeah, you are," Tom said with that glint in his eyes that let Serge know that yes, of course he was going to succumb to what Tom wanted.

Mentally shaking off the promisingly kinky image from his mind, Serge moved on to open the rest of the presents. There was a velvety trilby hat ("You'd look distinguished in that!)

A pair of red and white socks with cartoon reindeers on them ("It's almost Christmas, might as well!)

A couple of rings ("See, one has a skeleton on it, and one's got a furry bear, both very you!")

A loose black shirt ("I know you’ve got some already but you look so good in ‘em I thought it'd be good to have more, you know!")

And other jewelry, trinkets, and knick knacks that stroke Tom's fancy, some of which didn't even have any relevance to the person that was actually having a birthday.

When all papers had been torn and presents unwrapped, Tom pulled something from under the bed and handed it to Serge.

“Another one?” Serge asked looking at the slightly heavy box in his hands. Oddly enough, this one was plainly and quite properly wrapped.

“It’s the main one.” Equally oddly, Tom’s previously child-like euphoric expression had turned into one that looked genuinely expectant and perhaps, slightly nervous?

Serge neatly unwrapped the box, carefully lifting the tape that held the paper together. He opened it and saw a mobile phone that looked a lot like his own.

“Is that my phone?”  Serge asked, confused.

“Yep. Open the back.”

Serge did as told, and found that there was an empty space where the phone battery should be. He looked up at Tom again, even more confused.

“You know last year after we got home from your party, you told me it would have been nice to have a quiet birthday by yourself sometimes. So I told everyone not to bother you today and cancelled all your work things.” Tom spoke with the speed of light that pushed out his tumbling words while his eyes darted everywhere.

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“Well, you were very pissed that time. And you fell asleep on the stairs right afterward.”

“Oh. Can’t believe you remembered that.” Serge looked at his friend with a fond expression, and wondered how it would feel to press kisses at the soft lower lip that Tom was chewing nervously. But why would he be nervous? Everyone knew that despite all his antiques, Tom Meighan was one of the most sensible and thoughtful persons on earth, there was nothing new there.

“Yeah, well. So....?” Tom dared himself to meet Serge’s eyes.

“So...?” Serge asked back, frankly clueless about where this was going, though he rather enjoyed seeing Tom like this. He was quite adorable.

“Should I go?”

“What? Why?” Serge feigned a look of total bafflement, though he began to understand what made his friend so anxious. Tom knew how much Serge valued his solitary time, how comfortable he was alone and how uneasy he actually was when surrounded by people, despite his unshakable dedication as the band leader. Time and time again Serge had convinced Tom that he was one of the few exceptions, that Serge never minded Tom constantly hovering around him like moth around a flame. But even the greatest frontman of the century got insecure sometimes and needed reassuring, and Serge always loved those moments because it made Tom look even more lovable than usual. So Serge played stupid and let Tom squirm, forcing him to say the words he was so embarrassed to say.

“Well, you said you wanted a quiet day by yourself. If you want I could go and...leave you in peace. Should I...?” The words came out slow and hesitant, it reminded Serge of teenage Tom, who could never stop talking but turned red and speechless the moment Serge offered to write him a song.

Serge broke into a smile which grew into a wider smile and bloomed into a full-on Cheshire-cat grin. “You’re a stupid twat, you know? You’re my other half, aren’t you? So when I said I wanted to be by myself, that included you, doesn’t it?”

Tom burned scarlet as Serge pulled him in for a kiss.

“Fantastic. Good thing I’ve already rented us a movie to watch then.” Tom whipped out an E. T. DVD out of nowhere.

“What? Nooo, Tom! You’ve fucking watched that a thousand times now! Besides, it’s my birthday, don’t I get to choose the film?” Serge whined.

“Yeah, but I love it and you love me, so by extension, you love it too!”

Not being able to argue with that perfect Meighan logic, Serge merely smiled to himself as Tom snuggled to him and the opening credits rolled in the perfect birthday. 


End file.
